Hallowed Ground
by Delgodess
Summary: Never again would she walk on hallowed ground.
1. The Name Says it All

**Hallowed Ground**

******Disclaimer: **Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.

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**Prompt 1: **_Self-imposed_

**Word Count: 455**

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"They probably hate you, you know." The voice paused cruelly. "Even in death."

Merrill winced, despair tightening her chest. She looked down at her toes, watching silently as the blood of her clan flaked from her clothing and fluttered down onto her pale feet.

"Now, now, Fenris. No need to say a thing like that." Varric consoled, patting her gently on the back. It made her feel worse.

The voice continued, the man it came from ignoring the comment and doing little to hide his disgust.

"Your Keeper was far better than you could ever be, at any rate."

'Yes.' She agreed silently, trudging forward with a hunched limp, denying her thoughts a voice as she had for the last week. The journey back to Kirkwall from what was once the Dalish camp seemed to last a lifetime. And every agonizing step of the way was plagued by _his_ ruthless comments. She wished he would just stop. Or better yet, that she would just die.

"Merrill, when was the last time you ate? Your rations seem untouched-" Hawke cut in, the poorly disguised distraction obvious even to her; naïve, stupid and pathetic as she was.

Fenris snorted, skillfully avoiding the booted heel that stomped a little too hard on the area of ground his foot had just vacated.

"But even she, in the end, succumbed. Typical of a mage."

Merrill felt the thin thread holding her emotions at bay snap at the slight against her teacher, the wound of her passing still fresh. They flooded her, filling and wracking her once pure soul so severely it was as if she was forced from her own body. Her physical form still moved, legs still stumbling along and eyes still fastened on the rocky earth. But she was numb; distant. She watched as they raged, reaching their panicle, before leaving her hollow and wretched. Something dark took her and she had the uncontrollable urge to cause hurt.

She stopped, arms hanging loosely at her sides and eyes fixed resolutely on the dusty ground.

"You know Fenris…" Merrill spoke slowly, soft voice raspy from her self-imposed silence. Her head turned a fraction; just enough so one unusually sharp green eye showed.

"There is a name for people like you."

Fenris paused, chin lifting and armored arms folding across his chest. His disdainful face morphed as he raised an eyebrow mockingly, humoring the pathetic creature before him.

Varric and Hawke shared an uneasy glance.

Merrill twisted at the hip, her gaunt face now fully visible. Messy, dark hair flew about her cheeks, the unkempt locks lending her open features a twisted, feral look. Hard eyes caught his, their unique gentleness missing. Then venom dripped from her chapped and bloody lips.

"_**Slave**_."

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**AN: A prompt based story. Prompt requests and reviews highly appreciated!  
**

**~Delgodess**


	2. What she Wants

**Hallowed Ground**

**********Disclaimer: **Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.

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**Prompt 2: **_Wanton_

**Word Count: 621**

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It was as if she had whispered the word in his ear, phantom breath caressing his flesh, intimately sighing against his skin. A tremor passed through his body as her meaning registered, his entire visage falling into ice.

"Um, guys, that's not- I mean, really-" Varric stammered, his normally charismatic tongue failing.

But Fenris was already moving, cold fury sinking into his veins like poison. His bare feet tread silently on the rocky ground, their passing nearly untraceable as he stalked towards the blood-stained Witch.

He stopped a hairs-breath away from her, glowing hand upraised, metal fingers like claws. His lyrium markings flared at her proximity. She stared up at him as he leaned close, the intensity of her gaze making something in him shiver. Memories of agony raked their way to the forefront of his mind and he flung them back, refusing to entertain such thoughts. His cold eyes glinted, lip curling with loathing.

"_**What did you say?**_**"** His voice was dangerously soft and he nearly smirked at the way she trembled.

"I'm sorry." She paused, tongue flicking out to lick a drop of blood from her lips before it fell, her voice light.

"Did you not hear?"

She raised a limp hand, grasping the back of his neck delicately, thin fingers twining in the silver strands that curled at its nape and pulled herself closer. He stiffened; glare sharpening at the contact, mouth forming into a snarl, though his body froze at her next action.

Her other hand, her staff hand, ran down his torso, stopping inches from his lower abdomen. Fenris inhaled sharply, nearly flinching when real lips brushed against the shell of his ear, her breath warming his icy skin.

"_**Slave**_**.**"

Memories surged forward with vengeance, nights of pain, of pleasure, meant only for the Master, the Mistress, whomever Danarius whished, filling his head with their filthy words, their wanton sighs. All the voices whispering, calling out the same word with sickening fervency: _**Slave!**_

An instant of eternal torment and then the images receded, his hate burning them away from his conscious mind like a fever burns away sickness. Rage colored his vision red, hand descending, silver tattoos pulsing bright and then suddenly he was falling.

The metal of his gantlets tore though the sleeve of her armor, cutting into the flesh of her shoulder and raking down her arm rather than ripping out her still-beating heart.

He hit the ground, struggling to get up and finish the job, only noticing Hawke when he was forcefully pushed back down.

"Now, Daisy, I expected better of you." Varric was saying, tugging insistently at Merrill's uninjured arm. He gripped her harder when she didn't respond, still staring down at the pinned elf with cold, hollow eyes.

Varric's smile was grim, despite his cheeky tone.

"You could have _at least_ **hit** him!"

"Varric!" Hawke barked, shoving his captives' face deeper into the dirt when he viciously tried to release himself.

"Yes?" The dwarf grinned wider, unrepentant.

Hawke jerked his head to the right, indicating that they should leave.

"Quickly!" He snapped.

Varric nodded, all humor gone from his beardless face as he silently pulled Merrill's unresisting form farther down the forested road and out of sight.

Fenris twisted, gloved hands finding perches on the uneven earth, leaving long rivets in it as he tried to throw the rogue off.

Hawke shifted, using his larger body to his advantage and fixing the elf in an unbreakable hold.

"Maker, Fenris! Why do you have to pick at her so?" He huffed straining to keep the white haired man immobilized.

"I will kill her." The elf warrior growled, sending up puffs of dust with each ragged breath.

"Don't you _get it_, Fenris? That's what she _wants_."

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**AN: Review, please.**

**~Delgodess**


	3. Knowing Power when You See It

**Hallowed Ground**

**********Disclaimer: **Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.

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**Prompt 3: **_Escort_

**Word Count: 252**

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Hawke released him with frustrated grunt, moving to stand with a hand on the pommel of one of his twin-curved blades. Bright blue eyes stared down at him with disapproval and more than a little exasperation as he spoke.

"She is a powerful mage. What's more, she is a powerful _Blood-Mage_. You really think you could have done anything to her with that much blood on her? Never mind that I would stop you before you could, as we've just recently proved true."

The man ran a hand over his face, scratching tiredly at his dark beard.

Fenris sat up slowly, fingering his bruised cheek.

"You think she could beat _me_ in a fight?" He spat, indignant.

Hawke narrowed a firm glare in his direction.

"I think you couldn't hurt her if she didn't want you to."

Then he sighed, suddenly looking older; tired.

"Catch up with us when you've calmed or meet us back at the city. A days travel by this road and we'll be there before long. I trust you can make it back without an escort?"

Fenris said nothing and after waiting a moment, Hawke nodded his shaggy head and strode purposely down the path, all traces of fatigue gone.

The elf scoffed, unable to picture the foolish mage as anything other than what she was: a sorry excuse for a failure.

It was only after he had risen to his feet that he saw the staff, lying forgotten on the barren ground beside two tiny footprints.

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**AN: Short, but still a prompt. Reviews are nice.**

**~Delgodess**


	4. The Question

**Hallowed Ground**

**************Disclaimer: **Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.

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**Prompt 4:** _Staccato_

**Word Count: 528**

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Fenris crouched in the middle of the road, brooding.

His wrists rested calmly on his thighs, the fingers of his right hand drumming absently on his armor, creating a staccato of clinks.

He eyed the object before him, hesitating yet again.

The wood looked, for all intents and purposes, ordinary. A lie, even if he hadn't known what it was.

Fenris scowled.

He wasn't afraid of it; rather, he didn't want to sully himself by grasping such an object.

The movement of his hand stopped, limb inching slowly towards the smooth surface of the staff, before pausing, fingers quivering uncertainly over it. He wasn't a dog, fetching a tool. He didn't need to retrieve the cursed staff.

But, why?

Why would the silly chit leave something so important behind?

Though knowing her, it was perfectly possible that she had just forgotten it. Or, it was purposely dropped, as was his gut feeling.

The elf grunted, replacing his arm and hunching farther onto the balls of his feet.

He should just leave it here and when the silly Witch was dismayed to find it lost, it would teach her to take better care of her weapons. Though there was a possibility of someone less…_savory_, finding it.

And so, he continued to brood, hovering over the wooden staff like a dark gargoyle.

He took in the detailed glyphs, what he could only assume was Dalish lettering carved painstakingly into the worn wood. Its unmarred surface curved into a knot at its point, uninterrupted lines whirling over an odd notch a third of the way down, presumably where a hand would rest.

And as close as he was, he could feel the thrum of latent magic, a sign that the staff was bewitched. The Mages of Tevinter had many such enchantments, spells placed on objects to strengthen some attribute or another.

His skin crawled at its closeness, though being near its owner was even more uncomfortable. It didn't hurt, not like standing next to Anders.

Fenris's eyes narrowed at the thought.

The abomination made his markings _burn_ and his personality wasn't much better.

He sighed inwardly, chiding himself for stalling. Evening's shadows where already drawing in and if he were to catch up with Hawke, he would do so when night had fallen. Luckily, he knew of the possible haunts where the party might make camp.

He shifted, the tip of the broadsword strapped to his back dragging in the dirt, thoughts swarming before he finally came to a decision.

He would ask her himself.

Fenris snatched the staff from the ground, its handle warm against his palm. His lyrium flared, itching, and he released a pent breath when nothing else happened. The staff seemed to purr contently, its magic settling as he held it at arm's length.

A muscle in his jaw twitched and he hurriedly wrapped it in the remains of his old armor, the shredded scraps of leather formally sitting unused in his travel sack. Slinging it over his empty shoulder with a huff, he started stealthily into the night, strides long and keen ears alert.

The quicker he reached camp, Fenris thought, the quicker he could find answers.

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**AN: Hmm, yes... Review!**

**~Delgodess**


	5. The Missing Link

**Hallowed Ground**

**Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.**

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**Prompt 5:** _Sedimentary_

**Word Count: 327**

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Fenris cursed, struggling to untangle himself from yet another thorn infested vine.

His long ears twitched, hearing the subtle sound of crashing waves. Salt was heavy in the air and sand was thick under his feet. He was close to his destination, if only he could find…ah!

He tiredly pushed an overhanging branch out of the way, sharp eyes spotting the thin, unobtrusive rabbit trail leading farther into the bush.

He sighed; tightening his belted sword and pulling the burdensome staff closer, before determinedly thrusting his way forward.

The craggy over hang was perfect; fortified on one side by spiraling sea cliffs, the harsh, black rocks rearing up to meet the roaring waves and covered on the other by stubborn, unrelenting shrubs. The only entrance was by the narrow hunting trail he now took, the space nearly over run by the thick, prickly plants. A great rock hid the light of fire and wind off the ocean dispersed any wisps of smoke. He applauded Hawke for his chosen sanctuary, though the effort it took to get to it had much to be desired.

When he removed himself from the ragged foliage, slowly placing his bare feet on smooth sand covered rock, he immediately knew something was wrong.

The fire danced merrily, happily eating away at bristly, dry logs. His teammate's packs rested comfortably against the far sedimentary wall and they themselves lay asleep, dead to the world.

Perhaps that was the first indication of trouble.

His companions rested feet from each other; Verric, curled into a tight, dwarven ball around Bianca, crooning at his precious weapon in his sleep. And then there was Hawke, limbs spread, mouth ajar and drool sliding slowly down the side his face. They were the picture of normalcy.

Yet, Fenris hovered at the edge of the light.

They never slept deeply out in the open.

They never rested in the wild without a watch.

Then he noticed it. Or rather, noticed its absence.

They were missing one clueless, idiotic, Blood-Mage.

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**AN: Yes it is short. Some have asked for longer chapters, but as I have expressed, these are daily prompts. I am busy with work and such things that come with having a life, so what I am able to get out at the end of the day will have to cut it. Thank you for reading!**

**Review**** please!**

**~Delgodess**


	6. Free Falling

**Hallowed Ground**

**Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.**

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**Prompt 6:** _Suppress_

**Word Count: 625**

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He crept into the light, flinching when a wash of magic drifted over him. It shimmered threateningly for a moment, before subsiding with a reluctant grumble. A protective ward, he noted and a strong one at that.

He cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the itchiness the powerful energy had induced, moving quickly around the fire. It flickered blue for an instant as he passed, unease filling him. It was mage-fire, unnaturally bright and warm, its light unusually long-lived. They were fueled by the Fade, and unless dispelled, would burn indefinitely. It was dangerous to leave something so volatile unwatched, let alone summon it.

Fenris shook his head, alarm filling him as he strode towards the upturned face of Hawke.

Who was snoring.

Loudly.

The warrior nudged him with the base of the dark staff now clutched tightly in his left hand, even going so far as to jab him with it. Hawke grumbled, flinging an arm over his face but doing little else.

Fenris frowned in displeasure, doing the same to the muttering dwarf and confirming his suspicions. They were in an enchanted sleep and he knew enough about magic to know that no matter what he did, he wouldn't be able to wake them.

Even now he could feel his limbs growing heavy, his tired eyes drifting closed. He forced them open with a start, lyrium markings pulsing and throwing off the energy trying to suppress him.

There was a sudden rustle, a sound like sliding cloth and chainmail, before a loud thud. Fenris's head snapped towards it, mind and body on high alert now that he was not being lulled into complacency. The sound had come from the bushes directly to his right, near where their camp met the sea.

His gaze caught on a leather knapsack, the hand-stitched flowers and earthen appearance giving no doubt as to whom it belonged. A furious scowl warped his face and he crouched, inching closer to the shrubs and peering through them with suspicion.

He was unsurprised to find the missing mage standing there, armor pooled at her feet, lingering at the edge of the ragged sea cliffs with the water racing below. He was surprised, however, to note her appearance.

She faced the open ocean, lean features fixed in an expression of longing, strange flowing dress billowing lazily in the yellow moonlight. Strange, because he had never seen her wear it. It was a morning dress, he realized and inwardly scoffed. Such sentimental fancy.

A low moaning pulled his attention back to the men behind him, blissfully unaware of his presence. Or anything else for that matter.

Macabre curiosity quickly turned to anger; that the twit would _dare _use anything but healing magic on them! He had always known she couldn't be trusted, especially with that innocent face of hers.

Her staff suddenly felt heavy in his fingertips and he made to throw it from him, but stopped at a muffed gasp.

Fenris tilted his head, watching in confusion as the dark-haired elf clutched at her face, soundless sobs shaking her small form. Whispered apologies leaked though her hands and echoed in his ears as he looked on, unmoving.

'Good. She should be sorry for her stupidity.' He thought, morbidly satisfied with her tears.

But that didn't change the dubious scene behind him, _or_ answer the question he'd trekked all night to find the answer to.

Fenris made to get up, ready to confront the mage for her discrepancies, when suddenly she stopped shaking. He stilled as well, eyes wary. If this was some trick…

The girl opened her eyes, and he glimpsed the same hollowness he had seen earlier, resisting the urge to shiver at its coldness.

Then, she jumped.

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**AN: GAH! I feel horrible! My head hurts, my nose it stuffy and my throat throbs incessantly. Unfortunately, I feel like that was reflected on this chapter. I hope I wasn't repeating the same dry vocabulary and if you find any spelling/grammar mistakes, please tell me and I will fix them. Tomorrow. **

**Please review.**

**~Delgodess**


	7. Nothing Left

**Hallowed Ground**

**Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.**

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**Prompt 7:** _Ceremonial_

**Word Count: 903**

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The moment Merrill let the word drop from her mouth, she regretted it, wishing she could pluck the bitter syllables from the air and breathe the miasma back into her lungs. But she couldn't stop herself from repeating it, even going so far as to touch him, holding him in a way that would have normally made her blush. Never mind that he hated her and only moments later tried to take her life.

She had _not_ been herself.

And as she slowly moved away, following Verric like a docile lamb, she realized what she was feeling.

Grief.

She had been able to ignore it, barring it and hiding it within her subconscious, but then Fenris had cut her to the quick. Saying those words had hurt her, just as they had him, because it was _not_ in her nature to say such things.

"Now lass, let's take a look at that arm." Verric said, pulling her to the side of the road after the others had passed from sight. He tutted at the damage, her chainmail twisted into her flesh and skin torn like her clothing.

Merrill winced, the pain finally registering as the strange numbness which had over taken her faded. She could feel her body healing, the blood magic lacing her form setting to work. But it was a double edged sword; if she didn't remove the metal imbedded in her arm quickly, the skin would form over it and she would be forced to surgically remove it.

The dwarf inspecting her spoke softly, firmly, like she would bolt at any provocation. "You need to remove your clothes, Daisy."

Merrill felt an uncharacteristic twinge of irritation, inwardly rolling her eyes. But she nodded, going behind a nearby tree to do as she was told. She was nothing, if not an obedient listener. _Mostly_.

She gasped when she pulled the heavy links over her head, trying to shrug out of her garments without irritating her wound. Verric must have heard her, because suddenly there were gentle hands lifting it up.

Merrill's face went beet red, embarrassed that he could see her in her small things. But his worried gaze never wavered, fixed on her face in concern and she inwardly kicked herself. 'He is trying to help you, you dolt!' she berated.

But she felt like she was suffocating under his care, even as he bandaged her from shoulder to wrist, covering the clawed wounds that would soon be nonexistent.

'You're wasting supplies.' She thought absently, pulling her hand away from his and digging through her pack for something not covered in blood.

'Though I don't really _mind_ being covered in blood.'

Merrill stilled at the errant thought, unnerved by the strange statement. She would have inspected it farther, but her sharp ears made out the faint tread of someone approaching.

Hawke was coming.

And she was nearly naked.

Her expressive eyes widened in panic, good arm searching franticly at the bottom of her bag for something, _anything_, to wear.

Verric had retreated back to the road to give her privacy, calling out cheerfully. "Daisy's just fixing her hair, Hawke. We might be here for awhile."

Hawke snorted, voice loud. "I hope she doesn't take _too_ long, or we might just have to drag her out, flowered crown or no."

Merrill blushed, finally tugging out a clean patch of fabric. Her hands stilled when she saw what it was, smoothing over the white cloth. It was her Ceremonial Garment, the dress worn for weddings, hers specifically and for… funerals.

Her eyes watered, but she shook her head vehemently, lifting the soft dress and putting it on. It was sleeveless, the small popped collar brushing against the back of her neck. She was grateful that it fit her, as she hadn't worn it in years, though it was a bit tight around the bust. It flared out at her waist for easy movement and she couldn't help but twirl, melancholy thoughts taking her as she watched the fabric flutter.

She grabbed her pack and stepped back onto the road. Verric grinned when he saw her, breaking off from a hushed conversation with Hawke as she approached. Hawke blinked at her appearance, then smiled and patted her head. "You clean up rather well, I think."

She bobbed awkwardly at his compliment, nervous hands grasping for something that wasn't there, something that was missing.

"Um, shall we, ah, you know?" Merrill stammered, gesturing at the path. Hawke nodded, hands raised to the back of his head and they set out.

It was twilight when they reached the sea, settling around the newly made fire comfortably. Hawke insisted that she take first watch, kindly offering to take the last. She agreed curtly, angry that they were babying her, though it had never bothered her before.

Merrill frowned at herself.

Her emotions had been fickle since the incident on the road and she struggled to control them. But as night grew near, they spiraled, her thoughts darkening. Images of her clan plagued her, their haunting faces masks of disapproval, anger, and then terror. She remembered Keeper Marethari's last words to her, anguish resurfacing. Merrill thought over the last three years of her life, fighting, wanting so desperately to help her clan, her _family_.

It was then, as denial finally fled, that she realized something.

They were gone.

And she had nothing left to live for.

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**AN: Yuppers.**

**Review!**

**~Delgodess**


	8. Something Wicked

**Hallowed Ground**

**Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.**

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**Prompt 8:** _Unrelenting_

**Word Count: 506**

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There was no time for thought.

He reacted, rushing to the cliffs edge and tearing off his heavy sword as he ran. He dropped the staff, throwing his blade away and flung himself after the disappearing white figure.

Harsh, cold wind blew through his hair, sinking into the cracks of his feathered plate mail and whistled past his outstretched hands.

Distantly, he remembered that swimming in full armor was inadvisable. His markings flared at the thought, strengthening his limbs.

Breaching the water was like dousing himself in ice and fire. It was so cold it _burned_. He gasped at the painful sensation, choking on water as he pushed himself to the surface.

He fought against the torrent trying to drag him back, ready to dash him against unrelenting rock. Salt stung his eyes, frothy foam throttling him as he opened his mouth to breathe.

His searching gaze raked the swirling water, limbs pumping furiously against the current.

He dived, eyes stinging as he tried to make out anything in the furious whirl around him. The lyrium in his skin flared brighter as he pushed himself deeper, suddenly blinding him as it reflected off the rush of white water.

He reached out, taloned fingers sifting thought empty space.

Then, they caught.

His hand tightened on fabric and he pulled with all his strength, kicking out as he did so. But instead of moving back towards life giving air, he was pulled downward, into the dark.

He could see her now, body tossed in the unrelenting waves, eyes closed and skin unnaturally pale. He tugged at her, muscles straining to pull her up, but met only resistance.

He flinched back when he saw it.

Something was wrapped around her middle, something thick and dark and horrifying. He felt a distinct pang of dread at it appearance, and he soon realized why. It was pulling the little witch farther into the abyss and by extension, _him_.

In the distance, his noticed a light, blue like mage-fire and pulsing with wrongness.

But that couldn't be right, because the surface was _up_, not _down_.

He pulled himself closer, clawing at the line and it writhed like a live creature, tightening its wretched hold on the mage's immobile form.

His head was pounding from lack of oxygen, ears shrieking with pain at the pressure. Panic had begun to set in, igniting fire to his frantic thoughts and slowing his fumbling limbs.

And still the light loomed, like an open mouth, ready to devour them. His makings glowed, throbbing with his heart beat the closer they came, power rippling though them as if they were being torn from his skin.

He tugged again desperately, unfamiliar fear rearing its ugly head.

Suddenly, he caught sight of Merrill's face; featureless, cold…dead.

His thoughts raced, wondering _what_ she had done _this time_, _why_ he had come after her, but most of all, cursing the _stupid twit_ for her _idiocy_.

Fenris realized he had only one choice: Let go or drown.

He didn't let go.

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**AN: Err, yes well, I missed four days or so of prompts. I was working on something else, so this had to be pushed to the side. I'll make up the prompts or write a long chapter for them. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Please Review!**

**~Delgodess**


	9. Breath of Life

**Hallowed Ground**

**Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.**

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**Prompt 9:** _Retrospect_

**Word Count: 357**

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He burst though the surface as if fleeing from some unknown force.

Which in retrospect, Fenris supposed that he was.

He pushed the thought away harshly, unwilling and unable to dwell on such things right now. His clawed hand was still fisted in the girl's dress and he hauled her up, looping an arm under hers and across her chest. He made her float on her back, keeping her head above water as he kicked them to shore.

She was dead weight in his arms when he pulled her up onto the red sand, body limp and black hair plastered to her white face.

Fenris knelt, fingers hovering over her purple lips for a moment before flying to her throat. His eyes widened; her pulse was gone. Movements suddenly feverish, Fenris put his head on her chest, waiting for the rise and fall of breath.

It never came.

He struggled to recall what Isabella had said about downing victims and how to revive them.

Tearing off his gantlets with fumbling fingers, he brought his scared hands to her chest, pushing rapidly and then pausing to hear her heart. But the pirate had said something else, something like 'out with the bad, in with the good'. You have to-

"-Breathe life into them." Fenris finished, light eyes suddenly locked on the Witches mouth.

It was ludicrous, what he was about to do, and if anyone had been there to see, he would have sworn them to silence at the point of his sword. Better yet, he would have made them do it.

But he was stalling _again_ and time was running out.

Fenris brought his face close to hers, furtively noticing how smooth her skin seemed and how her long lashes bent to kiss her ivory cheeks.

He shook his head to be rid of such odd notions, lowering it quickly to get things over with.

"Breathe." He muttered and he could feel his own breath bouncing off her face and back onto his. Or, was that…

Fenris flung himself back as water squirted from her mouth, instinctively grabbing her shoulder and turning her so she wouldn't choke.

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**AN: Woot! Only three more extra prompts and I'll be back on track!**

**Review!**

**~Delgodess**


	10. Pushed

**Hallowed Ground**

**Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.**

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**Prompt 10:** _Mocking_

**Word Count: 447**

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It had been so very peaceful, sitting there, by the sea.

Merrill's armor clinked as she shifted, pulling it so that it was more comfortably settled in her lap. The wind blew through her hair, gently lifting it up off her shoulders, causing it to brush lightly against her bandaged arm.

She sighed, a forlorn sound, loosing herself in the task of re-knitting chainmail. She had cleaned the blood off earlier, fearing rust, but still had much to do in way of repair.

A loud snort pulled at her attention and she glanced at the bushes behind her, watching them for a melancholy moment before turning back to her task.

She didn't know why she felt it necessary to use that spell; the one that gripped her companions, holding them in deep slumber. Something had prompted her to do so, like she _needed_ to, if only to have some solitude.

Because she _needed_ to be alone.

The Ward would keep all enemies at bay and the mage-fire would keep them comfortable and warm. At least until morning, when both spells dissipated.

That she was outside the Ward's circle of influence didn't bother her. She would have been too close to the others and she couldn't have _that_, especially when she _needed_ to be alone.

Because she _needed_ it.

A frown overtook her features; the compulsion to be by herself nearly overwhelming. But it was good for her, she theorized. It would give her time to think.

Her thoughts drifted unerringly to her newly discovered grief, plaguing her. She swallowed thickly, blinking back moisture as she stood, planning to find something more engaging to distract herself and letting her armor fall from her limbs with a dull clank. A sob escaped despite her best attempts to hold it in, body shaking and words of regret falling uncontrollably from her lips as she pressed her trembling palms against her itchy eyelids.

'_Merrill_**.'**

The distressed elf pulled her hands away abruptly, startled. Her eyes darted to the camp anxiously, thin brows scrunching. Had Hawke woken? But that was imposs-

'_**Merrill.**_'

Something was horribly wrong.

She couldn't breathe.

The girl tried to clutch at her throat in panic, but found herself unable to move, frail hands held suspended before her face. They drifted to her sides of their own accord, swaying gently as her feet moved themselves slowly towards the edge the jagged cliff. Her fear grew with each step, blackness threatening her vision.

Then, as clear as the moon above her head, she heard it.

Slick and oily, like tar, the voice echoed in her mind, darkly amused.

'_**Meeerrriiiilll.**_'

And she found herself falling to the sound of mocking laughter.

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**AN: Yep. Tell me if there are any mistakes.**

**Review Please.**

**~Delgodess**


	11. Wake Up Call

**Hallowed Ground**

**Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.**

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**Prompt 11:** _Blackwater_

**Word Count: 855**

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The girl coughed raggedly into the sand, water and bile spilling out uncontrollably. He released her as soon as she was finished, watching as color returned to her shivering form. She lay there panting for a moment; raw eyes red as they stared blankly up at the sky.

Fenris moved away, picking up and brushing off his gloves casually before attaching them to his belted waist. He was uncomfortable; though he was loathe to show it. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching scarlet bloom where he had touched her. He hadn't seen the linen bandage before, but then, he had been trying to save her life.

An eye twitched, the familiar irritation her presence brought him slowly returning. He thought of asking if she was alright, but inwardly scoffed. He wasn't going to coddle her and if she wanted to throw herself off some god forsaken cliff, then she would have to do it on her own time. He had questions, now even more than ever, and by the _Maker_ she was going to answer them, even if he had to drown her again to do it.

He eyed the water lapping softly at the shore, thoughts turning to the strange light he had seen and its unmistakable wrongness. He was shattered from his musings by a scratchy, horse voice.

"Wha-?"

She flung her uninjured arm over her face, hand fisting in her hair and wheezed out a series of rasping coughs.

He followed the line of her form, the white of her dress contrasting starkly with the red of the sand she sat on.

Fenris's eyes narrowed, unable to recall if the Wounded Coast had a beach with such a color. In fact, he had never seen a shore quite like it before. _Anywhere._

The male elf walked away from the struggling witch, more interested in observing his surroundings. The bay they had only just emerged from was unnaturally still, the water's calmness so unlike to torrent he had fought against. The liquid was dark, like blackwater and no matter how he strained, his keen ears could hear nothing but the lap of waves and the girl's loud, gasping pants.

He looked up, white hair shifting wetly at the movement, and tensed. Trees loomed on the bank overlooking the barren strip of sand, twisted bark seeming to watch him. The chilled hand of dread trailed lightly down his spine and he shivered, convincing himself that he was just cold.

There was something eerie about this place, like something was missing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

A soft groan floated towards him and the taunt warrior turned, wet leggings squelching with the movement. His green eyes sharpened, face morphing into a snarl despite himself.

Merrill was slowly picking herself off up the ground, the white fabric of her dress sticking to her lithe form, small hands running shakily down the length of her torso.

He thanked the Maker that her dress wasn't transparent.

"Witch." He growled, letting anger pull his attention to different things.

"Hum?"She murmured absently.

"Where are we?" He bit out, more concerned with their immediate location and the uncanny feeling of being watched.

She looked up, bright eyes widening for a moment before she seemed to droop, dainty fingers once again coming up to cover her face.

She rubbed at her eyes like a groggy child, pulling them away slowly and blinking.

Then she pinched herself.

And from the shrill squeak she gave, it was probably hard.

"No- It can't be. H-how?" She looked confused, lost even. But more importantly, terrified.

Fenris snapped, striding over to her quivering form and gripping her wounded shoulder harshly. Disgust filled him at the contact, but her pained wince nearly made him smile. He shook her, impatient.

"There was a Blue Light in the water!" He bit out. "Do you remember?"

She jerked from his grasp, lips tightening to an angry, thin line as she shot him an uncharacteristic glare. He nearly flinched back at the force of it.

"No, I _don't_ remember." Her voice was cutting, though her eyes betrayed her fear.

She paused, as if she couldn't say the words. "But I _do_ know where we are."

He folded his arms so he wouldn't strangle the stupid twit.

"Well?" He gritted.

She flicked her slopping hair away from her face, stepping away from him in a pathetic show of defiance before answering curtly.

"I think it would be _obvious_, since you've been here before."

Fenris let out an almost inhuman growl, bare feet grinding against the sand as he moved to cut off her retreat.

"Enough of your riddles, _Witch_. I've no time for them."

The tiny elf stopped, taking a deep breath to calm herself. When she turned, she was the picture of confidence, her usually meek form pulled to its fullest height. He didn't know who she was trying to fool.

" This," she gestured grandly, the sweep of her arm encompassing everything around them, "is The Fade."

Fenris decided to ignore the way her voice cracked on the last word.

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**AN: Well? How'd I do? Any mistakes?**

**Review Please!**

**~Delgodess**

**Blackwater- the name for how water looks when mixed with blood.**


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